Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

A/N: This isn't properly British.

An entirely new bottle rests on the bathroom sink Thursday morning, and it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Neville looks at his boyfriend in clear exasperation, wondering aloud, "Seriously, Draco? Seriously?"

"Seriously what?" Draco returns, without looking away from the mirror. He has his wand raised to his face, jinxing away any hairs that dare mar his smooth chin.

"This is what," Neville grumbles, picking up and holding out the offending bottle.

Draco glances at it before drawling, "It's skin lotion. What about it?"

"You already have skin lotion." Neville puts the bottle back down on the sink in the only patch still available. The rest of the countertop is covered in various containers and beauty products, including everything from hair clips (which Draco doesn't even wear) to hair curlers (which Draco doesn't even use.) It's only slightly better than their bedroom closet, which is also completely filled, floor to ceiling, with Draco's copious amount of clothing. Even with enlargement spells, their closet door is a constant struggle to keep closed, and Neville's taken to keeping his own clothes on the floor next to the bed for accessibility, despite Draco's constant nagging about the mess. Neville's tried many times to explain that they can't own two of everything and have a tidy apartment, but then, reasoning with Draco is like trying to squeeze blood out of a rock.

As Draco puts his wand away, he preens into the mirror, examining himself from every possible angle. Neville tries not to roll his eyes and shout that Draco looks perfectly fine—just like Draco always does. Instead, he gives up and tries to slink back to the bedroom to await his turn with the mirror and sink.

Draco grabs his wrist before he makes it more than a step. "Where're you going?"

"Back to bed—there's no room in here." He tries to tug his wrist out of Draco's grasp, but Draco holds oddly firm, frowning.

"I thought we were going to shower. I want to put the skin lotion on you." Draco raises one eyebrow in response to Neville raising both, an obvious question all over his features. Draco's return smirk answers it. So it's that kind of lotion.

Neville yanks his arm back so he can abruptly pull his nightshirt over his head. A shared shower always makes Draco's spoiled prissiness entirely worth it.

Draco smirks widely as he peels off his own nightgown, clearly aware he's won again.